


The Best Part of Courting

by Elsajeni



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, F/M, Female Bilbo, Post Hobbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsajeni/pseuds/Elsajeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilberry Baggins is getting a <em>bit</em> fed up with the long, complicated, rule-bound process of dwarven courtship.</p>
<p>This part, though — this part she likes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Part of Courting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leaper182](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaper182/gifts).



> A short fill for the prompt "Boffins, best part of courting," originally posted [here](http://meressel.tumblr.com/post/56740497746/leaper182-answered-your-post-prompts-prompt) on my writing blog.
> 
> Basically every detail about Bombur that appears in this fic comes from things Stephen Hunter has said in interviews and production videos. I love that this cast is so eager to share their headcanons about their characters.

It’s not that she _minds_ the formality of dwarven courtship, exactly; it’s only that it seems to have an awful lot of steps, and every one of them has a great many rules, and sometimes she does regret not insisting that Bofur court her in the hobbitish manner — at the very least, it wouldn’t have taken so bloody long. Still, she’s getting accustomed to the dwarven process, and when Bofur and Bifur turn up on her doorstep together, both dressed in their finest, she doesn’t hesitate, only tilts her head and asks, “Another tradition?"

"My kinfolk welcome you to our family with gifts of their own crafting," Bofur says — recites, rather; many of these steps have had what seems to be ritual phrasing, and apparently this one’s no different. Then he grins, the awkward stiffness falling away, and adds, “I’m just here to translate, really. This is for you."

"Thank you," Bilberry says, and beams up at Bifur as she takes the little cloth-wrapped bundle and opens it. “Oh, a doll — why, she’s dressed just like me! Is this why you asked to look through my sewing basket?"

"For scraps of cloth, yes," Bofur says, his eyes fixed on Bifur’s quick-moving hands. “There’s more — turn her the other way up."

Bilberry obeys, and finds that the doll’s skirt conceals not legs and feet, but a second torso and head. Held this way up, the doll’s hair is cropped short, and her dress reverses into a dark blue robe; layered over that is a loosely-knitted tunic done in silver-grey yarn that shimmers in the light, and she gives a delighted gasp at the sight of it and says, “She even has my mithril-shirt! Bifur, it’s lovely — thank you."

Bifur beams at her, makes one of the few signs that she does understand — something like _you’re welcome_ , or perhaps _my pleasure_. Then he reaches back into his coat and comes out with a second, larger package, holds it out to her in one hand and goes on signing with the other.

"There’s these, as well," Bofur translates. “The doll is for you, but these are — here, I’m not telling her that!"

"Telling me what?" Bilberry demands, watching Bifur’s hands — he is, she realizes after a moment, repeating the last sequence of signs, only slower and more emphatically. “Bofur, don’t be mean; whatever it is, I want to hear it."

"Oh, all _right_ ," Bofur says, though his cheeks go rather pink. “The doll is for you, and these are for your children, of which he’s sure you will have many."

"Oh!" she exclaims, delighted, and takes the second package, opens it to reveal a half-dozen wood figures — dwarf, elf, man, hobbit, eagle, and bear — each one carved as a single piece and without fiddly moving parts, safe for even the littlest babe to play with. “Oh, they’re _perfect_. What a sweet gift — really, this is marvelous, I can’t imagine anything better."

Bofur frowns. “It’s not… intrusive? To comment on your future children, I mean?"

Bilberry laughs. “Certainly not! Not for hobbits, anyway — it’s quite traditional to give gifts for children at the wedding. Most newlywed couples have their first babe within the year, after all."

“ _One_ year?" Bofur asks, looking thunderstruck, and then goes red again and says, “I mean — oh, now I’m the one being rude. _Anyway_. You have Bifur’s gifts of welcome; are you free tonight, so you can come over and receive Bombur’s?"

"Of course," she says at once; then she thinks about it for a moment and cocks her head curiously, adds, “What sort of gift? I mean, not to spoil the surprise, but his craft—"

"Doesn’t lend itself, you’re quite right." Bofur grins. “He could make you a fine dollhouse for those little toys, I suppose, although I expect he’s saving that idea in case we do have a little one of our own. But he’s a fine cook, too — well, you’d know, you’ve had enough of his stews on the road — and his wife’s a baker by trade, and between the two of them I think they mean to feed you ‘til you burst."

“ _Ooh_ ," Bilberry breathes, with almost indecent enthusiasm — she does know Bombur’s cooking, and has sampled a few of his wife’s cakes, and just the thought of the planned supper makes her mouth begin to water. “Do you know, I think this is my favorite part of dwarven courtship so far."


End file.
